


Sticky

by sarapunzel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Domestic destiel, Food Kink, M/M, blowjob, dom!Dean, sub!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarapunzel/pseuds/sarapunzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a little obsessive about cooking, and Dean is determined to get his angel to pay attention to him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky

Dean should have known better than to give Cas free reign over the kitchen; the angel had lately become obsessed with his apparent mission to fill every nook and cranny of the house with baked goods. Yesterday, he'd spent an inordinate amount of time mastering crepes. The day before that, it was snickerdoodle cookies. Dean had to remind him that there were, in fact, only two people living in this house, neither of whom was going to ingest six dozen éclairs. But Castiel was determined to conquer every recipe in the worn out little cookbook Sam had picked up for him at a garage sale. So it was really no surprise when Dean walked in to find the angel leaning over the kitchen counter, absently tapping a large wooden spoon on the side of a ceramic mixing bowl, his blue eyes scrutinizing the recipe as though it were the Word of God. "Hello Dean," he greeted gruffly, without looking up. Dean dropped his bag in a chair and slid down beside Cas to read over his shoulder.  
               "Cinnamon buns, huh?"

Cas nodded.

"You know, we still have the turnovers you made on Monday," Dean said pointedly. Cas ignored him. Dean huffed and nudged his elbow. "Cas, come on. Take a day off. You can be Julia Child tomorrow," Dean urged him, and Cas peered over at him in sudden interest.

"Who is Julia Child?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and sighed. That was the last thing he needed: a brand new culinary icon for Cas to doggedly emulate. "Nobody. Forget it. Just clean up when you're done."

"Of course," was the angel's curt reply. He had already retreated into business mode, and Dean hovered in the kitchen for a minute, watching Castiel measure baking soda and sugar with machine-like precision. Then he slinked off to the living room, where his favorite recliner and a DVR full of _Doctor Sexy, MD_ awaited him.

However, he hadn't even made it through one episode when he heard a clatter and a yelp from the kitchen. "The hell," Dean muttered, scrambling to his feet and rushing to check on Cas.

The second he caught sight of the angel Dean snorted and began to laugh so hard he doubled over. Cas was standing stock-still, arms outstretched, shock and embarrassment on his face; the mixing bowl lay in big pieces on the floor, and pale, lumpy batter caked the front of Castiel's chest and crotch. Dean resisted the urge to tell him it looked as though a giant had ejaculated on him.

"What happened?" Dean asked breathlessly, wiping the tears from his eyes. Cas fixed him with a pained expression and brushed helplessly the splatters on his shirt.

"Layla. She jumped up and tried to eat the batter when my back was turned so I swatted at her with the spoon and she shrieked and knocked everything over," he explained sadly.

"That damn cat," Dean grumbled, an amused smile still twitching on his lips. "You're the one who wanted to keep her."

Cas glared at him, but any intimidation factor he normally possessed was underscored by the streak of batter across the bridge of his nose. Dean could smell him from here: sweet and spicy and definitely lickable.

"I guess I should go shower this off," Cas sighed, and took a step to leave. Dean darted to his side and grinned mischievously, blocking his way.

"No, not yet."

Cas cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. There was an edge of suspicion to his voice when he ventured, "Why?"

Dean licked his lips. He lifted a thumb to smudge the batter from Castiel's nose, then sucked it off with relish. The angel's eyes widened in understanding. He was learning fast.

"Oh."

“Take off your clothes," Dean instructed, stepping back to watch Cas strip out of his shirt and jeans gingerly. He dropped them into a batter-covered pile on the wood floor and stood awkwardly adjusting his briefs. Dean smiled at the bulge of Castiel's cock, and felt his own dick stiffening in response. He palmed himself hard through the rough denim and was pleased to see Cas's eyes dilate as he stared.

Dean shed his pants and peeled off his flannel shirt before sinking to his knees in front of Cas. He could feel the angel's muscles tighten under his teasing breath, his mouth grazing the head of the angel's cock through the thin material. Castiel's lips parted and he watched with reverent anticipation as Dean slid the underwear down his hips and licked the sensitive skin where his pelvis met his thigh. Cas shivered noticeably and Dean smacked his lips—the angel tasted better than a damn Cinnabon. He looked up at Cas quizzically. "How the hell did you manage to get cinnamon down your pants?"

The angel shrugged. "My jeans are quite loose." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him dubiously but decided the reasoning wasn’t really all that important, anyway. Why question such an undeniably good thing?

Dean lapped at the sweet, sticky underside of Cas's cock and the angel groaned, leaning into his mouth longingly. He tasted fantastic; Dean didn't even have the willpower to tease him. He sucked Cas into his mouth hungrily, his tongue eager to catch every inch of cinnamon skin. Cas gasped and rocked against Dean's face. The hunter glanced up at him and nearly came just at the pretty picture above him: Castiel's eyes were open and hazy, his head turned and pressed into his shoulder. He was biting his lip so hard it looked nearly white, and when he gave a weak little whimper Dean lost it, pulling the angel into his mouth and sucking hard. He wanted to devour him, choke on him, make him scream and moan and come so hard his knees gave out.

It wasn't long before he got his wish; Cas bucked his hips and gripped the counter behind him, a strangled cry tumbling from his throat as he streaked come down Dean's cheek and neck. Dean grabbed his shirt and wiped his face before standing up to press a slow, wet kiss to the angel's open mouth, cinnamon, sugar, sweat, and come mingling between their lips.

"How about that shower now?" Dean mumbled into Cas's ear. The angel looked at him questioningly, his hands still clutching the counter like he might fall down at any moment.

"What about you?" His eyes roved down Dean's body to focus on his erection. Dean tilted the angel's chin up to lock eyes with him.

"Don't worry, I'm coming with you," Dean said, with a wink that pulled at the corner of his mouth. Cas longed to hold him there and kiss him, kiss that smirk, those freckles, the tiny creases at the corner of Dean’s eye.

Cas licked his lips. He could put the baking on hold for awhile.


End file.
